— Mommy!
Jaqueline woke to her son's voice. She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, hoping he would fall back asleep on his own, but the call was repeated.
— Mommy, come here!
She reached over to the nightstand and tapped the phone screen. Two fifty-three in the morning.
— Oh, Nicolas...
It was the third time that week.
She pushed off the comforter, felt around for her slippers with her feet, and got up. She turned on the hallway light before reaching her son's room, whose door was closed.
— Nico?
She got no answer.
When she entered, she found the bed apparently empty. A lump under the blue comforter moved as she approached.
— Nico, what happened?
The boy lowered the blanket just enough to show his brown eyes. He was curled up near the headboard, his hair disheveled and his face worried.
Jaqueline sat on the edge of the bed.
— Did you have another nightmare?
He shook his head.
— It wasn't a nightmare, Mommy.
— Then what was it?
Nicolas took a while to answer. He pulled one hand out from under the comforter and held it out toward her.
— My hand feels weird.
Jaqueline took hold of his fingers.
— Weird how, sweetheart?
— I don't know. It's strange.
She brought his hand closer to the light, examined the palm, the nails, and the space between the fingers. There was no redness, no swelling, nothing she could identify as different.
— Does it hurt?
— No.
— Does it tingle? Like little ants crawling on it?
Nicolas furrowed his brow.
— No, Mommy. It's different.
— Different how?
He opened and closed his fingers a few times, looking at them with evident dissatisfaction.
— I can't explain it.
Jaqueline let out a slow breath.
Those complaints had started months earlier. First, Nicolas said his hands felt strange. Then came his feet, with sensations he described sometimes as itching, sometimes as something that seemed to stretch from the inside. The pediatrician ordered tests, examined his joints, and investigated the complaints without finding any changes. More recently, Jaqueline had sought out a child psychologist, who raised the possibility that the sensations were related to anxiety or to Nicolas's difficulty in understanding and describing what he felt.
It wasn't a definitive answer. Jaqueline knew that. But after so many appointments, she had to admit that it was becoming difficult to deal with a problem no one could identify.
— Shall we do that massage?
Nicolas nodded.
She settled his little hand over her own palm and began to massage his fingers, one by one. Then she ran her thumb across the center of his hand, making small circular movements.
— Is that good?
— Yeah.
— And now?
The boy looked at his fingers.
— Still weird.
Jaqueline held back a sigh.
— Sometimes we sleep in a bad position and wake up feeling different things. It could be that.
Nicolas seemed to consider the explanation. Then he pushed off the comforter with his feet.
— My foot is itchy too.
She looked at him.
— Oh, Nicolas...
— It is, Mommy!
— I believe you, son. Let me see.
She held the foot he offered her and examined the sole. She found nothing there either. She ran her nails gently across his heel.
— Here?
— Higher up.
She moved her fingers.
— Here?
— There!
— Better?
— It's getting better.
Jaqueline continued for a few more moments, until she noticed the boy's shoulders had relaxed.
— There. Now let's try to sleep? The sun will be up soon and we both need to wake up early.
Nicolas nodded, but as soon as she started to get up, he grabbed her wrist.
— Mommy?
— Yes.
— Can I sleep with you?
Jaqueline remembered the time. In a few hours she would need to be up, make breakfast, pack her son's backpack, and face another day of work.
The psychologist had talked to her about the importance of establishing a sleep routine, especially because Nicolas had been having difficulty resting. Jaqueline tried to follow the guidelines, but putting them into practice at three in the morning, after several interrupted nights, was another story.
— Nicolas, we've already talked about sleeping in your own bed.
He lowered his eyes.
— I know.
— And yesterday you slept with me.
— But today my hand feels weird.
She studied her son's face. Nicolas didn't seem to be throwing a tantrum. There was something in that gaze, a worry he couldn't put into words.
— Are you afraid of something?
The boy took a while to answer.
— I don't know.
Jaqueline stroked his hair.
— Come here.
The smile appeared immediately.
— Can I?
— Just for today. And no making a mess in my bed.
— Okay!
— I'm serious, Nicolas.
He nodded with an expression so serious that she almost laughed.
Jaqueline picked him up, settling him against her hip. At five years old, Nicolas was already getting heavy to be carried that way, but he still liked to hide his face in his mother's neck when he was sleepy.
She turned off the bedroom light and left with him in her arms.
As they crossed the doorway, she noticed Nicolas was looking back.
— Did you forget something?
— No.
— Then why are you looking?
The boy settled his face more comfortably against her shoulder.
— Nothing, Mommy.
Jaqueline didn't press.
In her room, she settled Nicolas beside her, adjusted the pillows, and turned off the light.
The promise of a peaceful sleep lasted about three minutes.
First, Nicolas turned from one side to the other, looking for a comfortable position. Then he started moving his feet under the comforter, bumping his heels against his mother's legs. Finally, he began making little popping sounds with his mouth.
— Nicolas — Jaqueline called, without opening her eyes.
The noise stopped.
Five seconds later, it started again.
— Son.
He let out a little giggle.
— What?
— Aren't you going to sleep?
— I am.
— Then why are you making that noise?
— Because it's funny.
Jaqueline opened one eye.
— You know what would also be really funny?
— What?
— Mommy managing to sleep before sunrise.
Nicolas laughed and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her.
— I love you, Mommy.
— I love you too, sweetheart. Now close those little eyes.
He obeyed, though he still asked if they could buy strawberries the next day and whether fish closed their eyes to sleep.
Jaqueline answered the first question and pretended not to hear the second.
When he finally fell asleep, Nicolas was hugging her arm, with one leg thrown across her body.
Jaqueline gently moved away the leg pinning her down and tried to find a comfortable position in the space left on the bed.
She stayed for a while staring at the ceiling.
She needed to schedule another follow-up with the psychologist. Maybe it was also worth talking to the pediatrician again.
She closed her eyes.
That night, she decided she would think about it in the morning.
The alarm went off early. Jaqueline reached out to turn it off and stayed lying down for a few seconds, feeling her eyes heavy. She turned to the side, expecting to find Nicolas, but the space was empty.
From the living room came the sound of little footsteps, followed by the noise of something being dragged across the floor.
— Nicolas?
— I'm here, Mommy!
She got up, pinned her hair back, and walked to the living room. She found the boy in his pajamas, on tiptoe in front of the shelf, trying to reach the television remote.
— Good morning, Mrs. Mommy! — he announced, with an enthusiasm almost offensive at that hour.
She smiled despite her exhaustion.
— Good morning, Mr. Nicolas. Did you sleep well?
— I did!
— Wonderful. Your mother can't say the same.
Nicolas laughed and finally managed to grab the remote.
— Can I watch cartoons?
— First, come give me a kiss.
He ran to her, hugged her waist, and lifted his face. Jaqueline bent down to kiss him, taking the chance to squeeze his cheeks.
— Now let's brush our teeth and get changed.
— Can I stay in my pajamas?
— You can, if you want to go to school like that.
Nicolas looked at his own pajamas, seriously considering the possibility.
— I like them.
— I do too. But I think your teacher will find it strange.
After some negotiation, she managed to get him to the bathroom. While Nicolas brushed his teeth, Jaqueline laid out his uniform and checked whether there were any messages from the school.
— Mommy, can I use your phone?
— Not now, son.
— Just for a little bit?
— Nicolas.
He recognized the tone and gave up negotiating.
Shortly after, already dressed, he ran to the living room, where he chose a cartoon about animals.
Jaqueline took the opportunity to shower and get ready. In front of the mirror, she tried to conceal her dark circles with makeup. It didn't help much.
It had been months since she'd slept a full night without interruptions. Nicolas had always been a light sleeper, but lately the early morning hours had become particularly difficult.
Sometimes she missed having someone to share all of it with. Not necessarily because she wanted to change the life she had built, but because it would have been nice to find another person awake at three in the morning, someone who could say that this time they would take care of Nicolas while she kept sleeping.
Her parents helped when they could, but they lived far enough away that most of the responsibilities remained exclusively with her.
Jaqueline liked her profession, her apartment, and the independence she had achieved in Brasília. She was proud of the life she had built and had never regretted having Nicolas.
That didn't mean there weren't days when she wished she could spend a few hours without having to solve absolutely anything.
In the kitchen, she started making breakfast and packing her son's snacks.
— Nico, come eat!
— Coming!
She finished setting the plates on the table.
— Nicolas!
— I'm going, Mommy!
The sound of the television lowered. A few moments later, the boy appeared in the kitchen and dragged a chair over to sit down.
He ate while talking about the cartoon he was watching, interrupting his own story several times to ask questions. When he finished, he looked at his empty plate.
— I want more.
Jaqueline raised her eyebrows.
— More? You just ate, my child.
— But I'm still hungry.
She watched him for a moment and got up to serve another portion.
Nicolas's appetite was a long-standing concern. Since he was little, he seemed to feel hungry with a frequency that surprised her, especially after very active days. Jaqueline had already talked to the pediatrician and sought nutritional guidance. His growth was on track, and the recommendation was to maintain a varied diet and observe his needs.
Still, there were mornings when she wondered where the boy put so much food.
— You're going to bankrupt me like this.
Nicolas smiled.
— What's bankruptcy?
— It's when Mommy runs out of money because Nicolas ate the whole supermarket.
He burst out laughing.
Jaqueline stayed for a few seconds watching him, leaning against the counter.
There was an expression Nicolas made while eating. His eyes narrowed, his eyebrows lifted slightly, and the smile appeared before he even noticed.
André did exactly the same thing.
The memory came so vividly that, for an instant, Jaqueline could almost picture him sitting at the table, looking at her with that satisfied expression.
She looked away toward the sink.
It had been a long time since she'd thought of him that way. Or at least, she liked to believe so.
— Mommy?
— Yes, sweetheart.
— Aren't you going to eat?
— Yes, I am.
She pulled out a chair and sat beside him.
As she fixed her own plate, she remembered the early morning.
— How are your hands today?
Nicolas looked at his fingers.
— Good.
— And your feet? Still itchy?
— No. It's gone.
— Are you sure?
— I'm sure, Mommy.
Jaqueline took one of her son's hands, examining it once more. She found nothing different.
Nicolas allowed the inspection for a few seconds before pulling his fingers back to keep eating.
She decided not to press.
The school was a few minutes from the apartment. Nicolas had attended the institution since he was six months old, when Jaqueline had to return to work after maternity leave.
Over the years, he had formed bonds with the teachers, the staff, and many children who had grown up alongside him. He was known for his friendliness, his spontaneous hugs, and a disposition that frequently left adults exhausted.
As soon as Jaqueline parked, Nicolas began looking for his classmates through the window.
— Mommy, Pedro's already here!
— I see, son. Wait for me to undo your seatbelt.
He squirmed, impatient.
— He's waiting for me!
— And he'll keep waiting for another ten seconds.
Nicolas laughed.
At the entrance, he greeted the receptionist and waved to a teacher crossing the courtyard. Jaqueline walked beside him, carrying the backpack while the boy talked about a game he planned to play with his friends.
Before going in, Nicolas turned around and opened his arms.
— Kiss, Mommy!
She bent down to receive him.
— Behave, okay? And listen to your teachers.
— Okay.
— No running inside the classroom.
— Only in the courtyard — he answered, smiling.
— Exactly.
Nicolas hugged her tightly, kissed her cheek, and pulled away.
— Bye! Love you!
— Love you too, sweetheart.
Jaqueline stayed for a few seconds watching him cross the gate. Nicolas found Pedro and greeted him with such an enthusiastic hug that the two almost lost their balance.
A teacher called his attention, and he immediately straightened up, offering her an innocent smile.
Jaqueline shook her head, amused.
Shortly before returning to the car, she ran into the mother of one of Nicolas's classmates.
— Is everything still set for jiu-jitsu?
— All set. I'll pick the two of them up here and take them to class. Can you pick Nicolas up at the gym afterward?
— Yes, I can. Thank you so much. You're saving me.
— Of course! I'm taking mine anyway.
Jaqueline thanked her again and confirmed the time.
Nicolas had started practicing jiu-jitsu not long ago. He liked the exercises, the games, and spending a few more hours with other children. He also attended swimming, an activity for which he showed even greater enthusiasm.
Jaqueline tried to offer opportunities for her son to burn off energy and develop new skills. She followed the guidance of the professionals accompanying him, though the results weren't always what she hoped for.
She had imagined, for example, that physical activities would help Nicolas sleep better.
So far, that hadn't happened.
On the way to the courthouse, she used the traffic to mentally organize the day's tasks. She had some administrative matters pending, a meeting in the early afternoon, and documents she needed to review.
She also needed to schedule an appointment.
Maybe two.
Besides the sensations in his hands and feet, Nicolas had been complaining about discomfort inside his mouth. Sometimes he said his teeth felt tight; other times, that something seemed to be pushing them. Jaqueline had already taken him to several pediatric dentists, without their finding an evident cause. The X-rays were normal, and although some professionals considered the possibility of discomfort related to teething, none could satisfactorily explain the complaints.
At the last appointment, she had lost her patience.
She told the dentist that she understood the test results, but that her son was still in pain. She didn't expect him to invent an answer. She just wanted to know what to do when Nicolas woke up crying and there was nothing she could identify.
Afterward she regretted her tone.
The professional had been polite, explaining his limitations and recommending follow-up care. Jaqueline knew it wasn't his fault.
But she was getting tired of hearing that everything seemed normal.
When she arrived at the courthouse, she checked her messages and put her phone in her purse.
She still needed to talk to the psychologist about the nighttime awakenings. Recently, the child psychiatrist had also raised the possibility of investigating ADHD, without establishing a diagnosis. Nicolas was restless, had difficulty staying still in certain situations, and seemed to possess an extraordinary amount of energy.
Jaqueline didn't rule out any hypothesis, but she also didn't want every characteristic of her son to be immediately turned into a symptom.
The workday passed more slowly than Jaqueline would have liked.
After an interrupted night, she needed several cups of coffee to be able to concentrate. At one point, a colleague noticed she was almost falling asleep in front of the computer.
— Wow, Jaque. Is everything okay?
Jaqueline straightened her back.
— I'm fine. Nico didn't sleep well again.
— Poor thing. And you come to work like this?
— If I find another option, I'll let you know.
Her colleague laughed.
Jaqueline laughed too, though she was only partly joking.
During the afternoon, she received two messages from Nicolas's classmate's mother. The first said the children had left school. The second confirmed they were at the jiu-jitsu gym.
Jaqueline thanked her and went back to work.
When she finally finished for the day, she was already thinking about dinner. She needed to stop at the supermarket, pick up Nicolas, and, if everything went well, put him to bed early.
She was looking for her car keys inside her purse when her phone rang.
The number was the gym's.
Jaqueline furrowed her brow and answered.
— Hello?
— Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Nicolas's mother?
— Yes.
— This is Coach Marcelo, from the gym. There was an incident during class.
She stopped beside the car.
— What incident? Is Nicolas okay?
— He is. He wasn't hurt.
— Then what happened?
— Nicolas bit one of his classmates during an exercise.
Jaqueline took a moment to comprehend.
— Bit?
— Yes, ma'am.
— But what do you mean? Were they fighting?
— No. They were doing a partner activity. The problem is that the bite was quite serious. The other boy had to be taken to the emergency room.
Jaqueline felt her stomach tighten.
— The emergency room? My God, Coach! What happened to that child?
— There was an injury to his arm. One of our teachers accompanied him to the hospital, and his parents have already been notified.
— But is he okay? Was it very serious?
— We're still waiting for the medical evaluation. Ms. Jaqueline, it would be important for you to come here so we can talk.
She ran a hand across her forehead.
— I'm leaving work now. I'll come straight there. But please let me know if you hear anything about the boy.
— Of course.
Jaqueline hung up and got into the car.
For a few seconds, she sat still, trying to organize what she had just heard.
Nicolas had bitten another child. She couldn't believe it. When he was very little, he had gone through a biting phase, like so many children. But that had ended years ago. At five, he already understood that he couldn't hurt his classmates, and now he had bitten a boy hard enough that he had to go to the hospital.
Jaqueline started the engine.
As she drove, she felt her irritation grow along with her worry. Nicolas would have to explain what had happened. She wouldn't accept him resolving conflicts that way, especially during a supervised activity.
But there was something else bothering her.
Could a bite really cause such a serious injury?
Jaqueline entered the gym looking for her son.
She found him sitting on a bench near the mats, accompanied by one of the teachers. Nicolas was still wearing his white gi, with the belt loose across his legs. His eyes were swollen, his cheeks wet, and his nose red from crying so much.
Small bloodstains appeared near the collar of his uniform.
When he saw his mother, he stood up so quickly that the belt slipped to the floor.
— Mommy...
Jaqueline walked over to him and bent down in time to catch him in her arms.
— My God, Nicolas! What happened?
The boy clung to her neck.
— I'm sorry, Mommy.
— Calm down. Let me look at you.
She pulled back a little, examined his face, and held his arms.
— Are you hurt?
Nicolas shook his head.
Jaqueline looked at the stains on the gi.
— Is that blood?
The boy began to cry harder.
— It's Lúcio's.
She felt a knot in her stomach.
— Nico, look at me. — She ran her thumb across her son's wet cheeks. — I need to know what happened.
— He held me, Mommy.
— Who?
— Lúcio. I wanted to get out and he wouldn't let me.
— And you bit him?
Nicolas nodded, hiding his face again.
Jaqueline closed her eyes for an instant.
— Son, for heaven's sake... You know you can't do that.
— I know — he answered, between sobs.
— Then why did you do it?
Nicolas couldn't answer.
That was when Coach Marcelo approached.
— Ms. Jaqueline?
She stood up, keeping one hand on her son's shoulder.
— Coach, can you explain to me properly what happened? Because he's saying the classmate was holding him.
— He was